Summer Heights
by jeslylo
Summary: Hermione's family goes to the States for summer holiday after her fifth year at Hogwarts. They go to Lima, Ohio, staying with her father's cousin. She meets the neighbors' daughter, Quinn Fabray, and the rest of New Directions as the summer progresses.
1. Vacation Plans

Author's Note: I don't own anything except the idea. All characters belong to J.K. Rowling and RIB.

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><p>After dealing with the fiasco at the Ministry at the end of her fifth year, Hermione was all to eager to go home and relax for the summer. Ron had offered for her to spend the summer at the Burrow, but truthfully, she really needed time for herself - time away from magic and danger, and instead with her parents. They worried about her, she knew, and the only way to alleviate their worries was to go home for the summer and spend time with them. Harry and Ron would just have to survive without her, for the time being. At least the Wizarding World now knew that Voldemort was back, so the Dark Lord no longer had the power of denial on his side.<p>

Hermione's parents picked her up at King's Cross, as usual. Her father stepped out of the driver's seat, leaving the engine running, and came around to wrap his arms around his daughter lovingly. Hermione made sure to subtlely shield her ribs where Dolohov's curse had hit, making sure to not let either parent know what was wrong. It was nothing they should concern themselves with, not at this point. "Hello, sweetie," her father murmured in her ear. "We're glad you're back." He pressed a quick kiss on her cheek, to which she smiled and returned the gesture. "Hey Daddy. Glad to be back." After her father released her, Hermione moved to hug her mother, who welcomed her warmly into her arms. "Welcome home, honey." The girl sighed happily, burying her face in her mother's shoulder. "Thanks, Mum."

Her father loaded the baggage into the boot and slipped back in the driver's seat. Hermione, after finishing hugging her mother, slid into the backseat, and her mother sat in the front passenger seat. Crookshanks, not wanting to be forgotten, plopped into Hermione's lap and made himself comfortable. The girl's lips curled upward and she chuckled, stroking his orange fur. He purred appreciatively. Hermione buckled her seatbelt, minding the cat in her lap, and looked up at her mother, who had turned in her seat to look back at her. "So we have a surprise for you, darling," she said to her daughter with an excited smile.

Hermione perked up a bit. "Yeah? What is it?"

"Do you remember when we took you to France for summer holiday a couple of years ago?" The girl nodded. Her mother smiled. "Well we've decided to take another summer holiday, but this time, we're going to America. Your father's got some family there, and we can stay with them until your next term." Hermione's expression brightened. "America? Wow, really?" The older woman nodded, her smile broadening at the sight of her daughter's excitement. "Yes, really. So I take your jubilation to mean you want to go?" She quirked her eyebrow expectantly.

"Of course, of course!" confirmed Hermione, leaning forward to hug her mother - though, it would have been easier if she wasn't strapped in a car while doing so. She laughed and sat back, resuming her petting of Crookshanks. "So where are we going, then? New York? California?" Truth be told, Hermione didn't really know all that much about the States; there had never been a need. But she did know about the popular places. Her father piped in. "No, no, darling. We're going to stay with my cousin Richard and his wife Phoebe. They live in Ohio."

Hermione blinked. "Oh." She paused, then tilted her head in slightl confusion. "Where is Ohio?"

Her mother chuckled. "It's southwest of New York. Two states away, actually." The girl nodded, petting the cat in her lap absently. "Well I've never heard of Ohio, but I'm sure it'll be nice. What city?"

"A little place called Lima," replied her father as he turned a corner onto their street. "It's small, but... quaint. Not always bustling like London." He pulled into their driveway and parked the car. Before he turned the engine off, he turned around to look at his daughter. "How does that sound, pumpkin? A nice, relaxing summer away from all this danger and strife?" He grinned warmly.

Hermione breathed in slowly, then let it out with a knowing smile. "It sounds perfect." Crookshanks purred in agreement, and they all laughed. "Alright then," said Hermione's mother, taking her daughter's hand in her own. "Our flight leaves tomorrow morning. Let's all go pack, eat, and get a good night's sleep. Then we're off to Ohio to have a wonderful, calm summer." She pat Hermione's hand and, unbuckling her seatbelt, stepped out of the car. The other two followed suit, Hermione's father pulling her luggage out of the boot of the car and rolling it up the house.

The girl cradled her cat closely, scratching behind his ears lovingly. "We're going to America tomorrow, Crookshanks. Doesn't that sound wonderful?" He purred, his tongue flicking out to lick his flattened nose. Hermione chuckled, looking up at the sky. "Lima, Ohio... here I come."


	2. Transatlantic

Author's Note: I own nothing except the idea. Everything else belongs to J.K. Rowling and RIB.

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><p>Hermione checked and rechecked her bags, making sure that she had packed everything she needed. Shirts, pants, underthings, socks, toiletries, etc. All of it was there. She turned to look at herself in the mirror, narrowing her eyes at her bushy hair. Grabbing a hair tie, the girl pulled her hair up in a messy ponytail. There. At least now it was out of her way. Hermione looked down at her simple outfit: dark denim jeans, a dark red tank top, and black flats. It was summer, after all, and she assumed Ohio would be as warm as it was in London, if not warmer. In case she was wrong, she did make sure to pack a few long-sleeved shirts as well. Nodding to herself, Hermione zipped up her suitcase and brought it downstairs, letting her father put it in the boot of the car. After all the luggage was loaded, they all got in the car and drove to the airport.<p>

Since she had not been outside Europe before, Hermione didn't know what to expect, at the very least in terms of flight experience. Sure, she had been to France, but that flight had only been an hour and a half long. This plane was going straight to the States, to Lima, Ohio. It would take roughly eight hours - eight hours, sitting down in a plane, with nothing to do but read, listen to music, or attempt small talk with her parents. Luckily for them all, Hermione was content with reading during the entire flight; in fact, she had packed several books just for the occasion. And not just for the flight, but for the entire summer holiday as well. Many of them were normal Muggle novels, but some were for next term (yes, Hermione knew she was already reading ahead, but she wanted to be as prepared as possible).

It felt strange, going back to doing things the Muggle way. She had been using magic for so long now, learning new spells and potions and such, and to just stop using it like she had to every summer... well, to be honest, it got harder and harder every year. To think, she had gone practically twelve years without even knowing about magic, and now that she's been submersed into it for the last five years, Hermione couldn't imagine life without it. She supposed she could compare it to when Muggle teenagers finally got their first car, and then were forbidden to drive it every summer.

Still, Hermione knew why it had to be this way. Young witches and wizards running rampant with their newfound powers and knowledge of magical ways out of things would certainly not be something the Ministry of Magic would be keen on dealing with. So yes, she was always a little sad about having to go back to doing things the Muggle way, but she at least saw and agreed with the reasoning behind it.

The Grangers boarded the plane that would take them to Ohio, their bags checked and their carry-ons in their possession. They looked and acted like any other normal Muggle family, which was sort of nice for the girl. Not using magic, although difficult at times, somehow made things... simpler. Sure, magic was a solution for many problems, and Merlin knows the world could benefit from it if used with proper caution, but sometimes it felt nice to just do things the normal way. Well, normal for Hermione - or, what she thought was normal before she found out she was a witch.

See? Although magic made things easier, it sure did complicate them as well.

Slipping into her seat by the window, Hermione slid her bag underneath her and buckled herself in, glancing outside at the airport one last time before liftoff. She looked at the ground, knowing that in just a few minutes, it wouldn't be there anymore. The thought of being up in the air curdled her stomach, not unlike the thought of flying around on a broom. Yes, she knew that being in a plane was different than being on a broom - for one, she wasn't perched precariously on a slim piece of wood with nothing to hold onto for support, which she was grateful for - but she was still going to be in the air. That was one thing that Hermione was never comfortable with: flying. That was yet another reason why she brought books, truth be told. If not to keep her from growing too bored, but to distract her from the fact that she was not on solid ground.

The captain's voice came on the intercom, delivering the customary safety instructions while the flight attendants demonstrated them. Minutes later, the plane was backing away from the terminal and moving down the runway. Hermione looked out the window, watching the road. Once the plane began to pick up speed, she turned her head back towards the seat in front of her and shut her eyes quickly, her hands clenching the armrests. She breathed in and out slowly, keeping her eyes closed and her grip on the armrests tight. Hermione felt her mother's hand on top of hers, which helped, but only slightly. Moments later, the plane was in the air, and she breathed just a little easier.

Did she mention that she hated flying?

Once the plane leveled out, Hermione's grip on the armrests lessened, her knuckles fading from white back to their normal flesh color. Her gaze shifted to the window, then back to the seat in front of her again once she saw the ground below dropping further and further away, the clouds taking its place under the plane. Hermione wetted her lips and leaned over to grab her bag. She rummaged through the things inside, eventually pulling out a book and setting it in her lap. Beside her, her mother smiled slightly as she watched Hermione bury herself in yet another novel.

It was going to be a long flight.


	3. Meeting the Cousins

Author's Note: I own nothing except the idea. The rest belongs to J.K. Rowling and RIB.

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><p>The plane touched down in Ohio roughly eight hours (and three books) later, Hermione's eyes squeezed shut, her heart pounding, her fingers clutching the armrests like they were her only lifeline. She knew there was only a slim chance that something would go wrong, but still; the chance was still the plane was firmly on the ground, she breathed a sigh of relief. As her father dialed his cousins to inform them of their arrival, her mother patted Hermione's hand supportively, giving her a small smile as the plane pulled into the terminal. "They'll be here soon," announced her father, closing his cell phone and smiling at his wife and daughter, who nodded back. "I'm just glad they knew when we would be arriving beforehand," he added under his breath, "otherwise we'd have had to wait over an hour for them to get here." The captain then announced that they were all allowed to deboard the plane, and the passengers all stood, grabbed their bags, and exited the large metal contraption, glad to finally be out of the air and able to walk around freely.<p>

As the Grangers waited to pick up their luggage, Hermione looked outside the windows nearby. So this was Ohio, was it? Well, to be fair, one could not tell the difference between cities just by looking at and around the airport - most airports did look alike, after all. She would have to wait until they started driving before making any judgments on the area.

Her father's cousins arrived shortly after they grabbed their bags. An SUV pulled up, a man and a woman getting out and waving to the Grangers. Hermione's father waved back. The girl's gaze moved between the man and woman, studying them as they approached. The woman was petite, blonde, and obviously very chipper, her bright blue eyes practically popping in excitement. She didn't look older than twenty-five. The man, in contrast, looked a bit older, was tall and fit, and his hair dark brown in color and slicked back stylishly. His eyes were dark as well. "Lucas, my boy, how are you?" her father called to the man, holding out his hand. The two shook heartily, Lucas grinning broadly. "Good, good, thank you, Charlie - oops, you like to be called Charles now, don't you?" The man winked at Hermione's father, who chuckled. Hermione quirked her eyebrow, surprised that her father's cousin sounded very much American, and not British. Odd. Her father glanced back at his wife. "I believe you remember my wife, Barbara," he said, gesturing to her.

"Who could forget such a magnificent woman?" Lucas took the woman's hand and kissed the top of it. She laughed. "Lucas, you flatter me." The man nodded, still grinning. "I aim to please." His dark eyes slid over to Hermione, who was still studying him. A shiver ran down her spine as their eyes locked. "You must be... Hermione, correct?" he asked, his voice low, intrigued. She nodded, silently thankful he had pronounced her name correctly. Though, she assumed her father had already told him about her, so she wasn't too surprised. Lucas approached her slowly, holding out his hand. She looked up at him for a moment, eyeing his grin, and slowly held hers out as well. "Pleasure."

Lucas took Hermione's hand in his own, and bent over to kiss the top of it lightly, his dark eyes still locked with hers. "The pleasure, I assure you, is all mine."

Chills once again traveled along her skin, originating from the contact this time. She pulled her hand back quickly, putting on a small smile, and layed her other hand on top of it, rubbing it discretely. Her mother may like the flattery, but it did not sit well with her. It was just plain creepy. Lucas paused, then laughed, standing up straight and walking back over to the blonde woman. "This is my wife, Valerie. She's been so excited to meet all of you, haven't you sweetie?" he asked, turning to look down at her with a smile. She nodded eagerly, giving each of the Grangers a small, excited wave. Hermione gave her a polite smile and small wave in return, grateful that the attention had been directed away from her. They all loaded their luggage into the SUV and slid into their seats. Moments later, they were gone.

As Lucas drove back to his and Valerie's house, Hermione leaned against the window, looking at the landscape. When she left the airport, she had been pleasantly greeted by weather similar to that of Heathrow. She supposed that, because Ohio was in the northern part of the States, summer temperatures were more moderate than the more southern states - or, possibly, because it wasn't as built up as New York, so there was less asphalt for the sun to heat up. Either way, it was nice. The landscape, however, was not as enjoyable. For most of the drive, all Hermione could see was flat land - grass, grass, and more grass. There was little variation, and she quickly grew bored. Her mind wandered to the question of why her parents decided to come here for summer holiday. Sure, they had family they could stay with, but other than that, what was their excuse? So far, Ohio didn't seem particularly interesting. True, they had not arrived to Lima yet, but really, was there anything in Lima that was different, more interesting, than what the girl was seeing so far? Hermione doubted it. Sighing, she leaned over to rifle through her bag, pulling out yet another book to hold her attention until they reached their destination.

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><p>"Here we are!" announced Lucas, pulling the SUV into the driveway. Hermione marked her place in the book and looked up, surprised that time had gone by so quickly. She shouldn't have been, though; it always happened when she buried herself in a good book. Her brown eyes flickered to the large, white-brick, three-story house they had pulled up to. It was much larger than she had expected, and certainly much prettier. The front door looked to be made of some dark wood, with glass squares stacked in the center; the windows were large and plentiful; the roof was a dark blue color; and the garden - oh the garden was beautiful. Bright flowers, green shrubs and tactfully-placed lights tastefully decorated the front of the house, and Hermione could not stop herself from smiling at the sight. It really was magnificent, especially considering what she had seen on the way from the airport - and it made her wonder what exactly Lucas and Valerie did for a living that could allow them to live in such lavishness. She made a mental note to find out later.<p>

They all climbed out of the SUV, and Hermione's eye caught the second car that was parked closer to the large house. It was a black Mercedes Benz CL Coupe. Her jaw dropped slightly, knowing from her father how expensive that kind of car could be. Sure, the house was large, but to have a car like that meant her father's cousins were very, very well off. Her curiosity grew even more, wondering how Lucas and Valerie could afford all these luxuries and live in Lima, Ohio, of all places.

As they all pulled their luggage out of the car, Hermione glanced to the neighbors' houses on either side, noticing their grandeur as well. This part of the neighborhood seemed to be doing quite well for themselves. She allowed herself another smile as she wheeled her bags inside, admiring the inside of the house, which was more gorgeous than the outside. It was like she was stepping into a mansion, with all the dark wood and expensive appliances. Perhaps the summer wouldn't be so bad after all, not if she was going to spend it here.

Now she just had to find her room.

Lucas seemed to notice Hermoine's hesitation. Grinning, he reached to take her luggage. She blinked and shook her head, taking an involuntary step backwards. "No, no. I've got it," she said, managing a semi-polite smile. Admittedly, she didn't feel comfortable around him. But she wasn't about to say so. "Um, could you just tell me where my room is instead, please?" Hopefully he would do as she asked and not offer to show her instead. Lucas paused, his head tilting curiously, then smiled. "Sure thing. It's on the third floor, on the right. You'll be by yourself up there, since the adults will be on the second floor." He winked. Hermione felt a sting, catching his insinuation that she was not an adult, but ignored it for the time being. Nodding her thanks, she headed towards the stairs and went up to the third floor, pulling her heavy luggage after her. She felt his eyes follow her, and hurried into the room he mentioned, shutting the door behind her.

The room was larger than her own bedroom back home, more spacious. The bed was Queen-sized, another pleasant surprise, and covered with a lovely, black and white comforter and matching pillows. Smiling to herself, Hermione took a running leap onto the bed, loving the springiness of the mattress. It would do nicely. She sat up and looked around once more, noting the bedroom vanity and television. Again, the girl could not imagine how Lucas and Valerie could afford all of this. It simply boggled her mind. It wasn't that she didn't appreciate it; far from it, actually. She was simply curious as to what their respective careers were. After all, both her parents were dentists, which paid well. But aside from their pride of being so intelligent (after all, they did name her after a Shakespearean character), they were a humble couple, never prone to extravagance.

This, however, was just ridiculous.

"Hermione, dear!" called her mother from downstairs. "Would you mind helping us bring in the rest of the luggage?"

Stealing one last glance around the room, she darted down the stairs and out the door, taking the last of the bags from her father. As she turned back towards the house, a car pulled into the driveway next door. She glanced over and watched as three people exited the car: a man, a woman (whom she assumed to be the man's wife), and a young blonde girl (whom she assumed was their daughter). The two adults looked over at them and waved at Lucas, who grinned and waved back. "Russell! Judy! Great to see you!"

"How's it going, Lucas? Got some visitors for the summer?" asked the man - Russell, Hermione noted.

"Yep, my cousin Charlie's family. You remember me talking about him, right? The dentist from England?"

Russell and - Judy, was it? - looked at Hermione's father, who smiled and waved. They crossed the driveway and walked over to shake his hand. "Actually it's Charles. Charles Granger," corrected her father with a laugh, "but Lucas conveniently forgets the fact that I haven't gone by Charlie since I was in my twenties." Russell nodded knowingly. "Yeah, I know what you mean. Well, Charles, I'm Russell Fabray. This is my wife, Judy, and our daughter, Quinn." He gestured to the blonde girl that was still standing by the car. At the mentioning of her name, she walked over towards the small gathering, her arms folded. She didn't say anything, merely choosing to nod and smile semi-politely, as Hermione had done with Lucas.

"Lovely to meet you all," replied her father. "This is my wife, Barbara, and my daughter, Hermione."

Three sets of eyes darted to the girl, whose cheeks reddened slightly. She put on a brave smile, stepping forward and shaking both Russell's and Judy's hands. Quinn, however, did not move, though her gaze was still glued on Hermione, her face a mixture of curiosity and wonder - and was that a hint of disgust? Hermiones eyes furrowed in confusion, then realized what Quinn was really looking at. Her hair. Of course, it was the first thing people noticed about her. She usually had no problem with its bushiness or frizziness, but right now, Quinn's gaze felt like a thousand insults packed into one look. It frazzled the girl, but she kept her head up, keeping her smile in place. "Nice to meet you," murumured Hermione, glancing at her parents for permission to go back inside.

"Well," said her mother, catching her daughter's gaze, "we've been traveling all day, so if you'll excuse us..." Russell held up a hand, smiling knowingly. "Say no more, say no more. We know exactly what you mean. Go rest." He shook the Grangers' hands and walked back over to his house. "Oh, and don't be strangers; you come over any time you like." Hermione didn't miss the roll of Quinn's eyes before the girl turned on her heel and stomped inside her house, still having said nothing to anyone. _What's her problem? _she wondered before turning and going inside herself. As she made her way towards the stairs to go up and unpack, Lucas called out to her. "I'm cooking lunch in a little bit. Tunafish salad. Hope that's alright." He grinned, as if daring her to say it wasn't.

Hermione blinked. Lunch? Shouldn't it be dinner by now? She looked at the nearest clock, which read 1:30 PM. Then she remembered the time difference. Ohio was what, five hours behind London? They left Heathrow Airport around nine o'clock their time, which would have been four o'clock in Lima. Their flight was eight hours, plus the hour or so drive to the house, so... yes, it would be lunch time, wouldn't it? Still, she was hungry, and tunafish salad sounded fine. "Sure, that's fine," replied Hermione with a small smile and nod. Lucas grinned and nodded back, and she turned and climbed up the stairs to her bedroom. Shutting the door behind her, she went over to the window, peering at the Fabrays' house next door. Her eyes caught movement in the second story window facing her. She squinted slightly, and realized it was Quinn she was looking at. Their rooms faced one another. Just great.

The blonde seemed to be pacing slowly, chewing on her thumb. Hermione focused more intently on the girl in the window, wondering why she had been so distant and rude before. Then Quinn turned and wiped at her eyes. Hermione blinked. She had been crying. But why? Before she could investigate further, however, Quinn's gaze shifted out the window, locking with Hermione's. There was a brief moment of shock, shared by both girls, before Quinn narrowed her eyes angrily and closed the curtains on her window, leaving Hermione feeling guilty for spying. Still, amidst the guilt, the girl wondered why the blonde had been crying. What had happened? Did her father chastise her for being rude to them? Although Hermione agreed that it hadn't been the most polite of greetings, there was no need for punishment. She frowned and moved back to her bed, pulling her suitcase up and unzipping it. Hermione pulled out her clothes and tucked them into the empty dresser across from the foot of her bed, her mind buzzing.

Never having experienced jetlag this badly before, Hermione knew that this was going to be a long day, indeed.


	4. Food Brings People Together

Author's Note: I own nothing except the idea. The rest belongs to J.K. Rowling and RIB.

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><p>It didn't take long for Hermione to finish unpacking. Since she hadn't asked Lucas how long it would be before he started fixing lunch, she climbed on top of her new bed, smiling slightly at the largeness of it. She stretched out on her back, wiggling slightly to get as comfortable as possible, her legs straight but relaxed, her hands resting on her stomach. She smiled a bit more and sighed contentedly. It was a very comfortable bed. Drumming her fingers lightly, Hermione stared at the ceiling, letting her mind wander. She thought about the flight from London to Ohio, how she had decided to read instead of sleep, and automatically yawned, her hand darting to cover her mouth. She knew no one was there to see her yawn, but still, the motion was like second nature to her. After she slid her hand back into place, the brunette then thought about Lucas and Valerie. She was still perplexed as to how they could manage to afford such a luxurious house - was Lucas a doctor? No, he couldn't be; he didn't look nearly tired enough, and he was downstairs, relaxing, about to make lunch. A doctor would be at the hospital right now, going off a few hours' sleep and endless amounts of coffee.<p>

Plus doctors aren't usually that... creepy.

Hermione didn't know what it was about the man, but he gave off a peculiar vibe. One that, although she couldn't confidently claim as bad, she didn't particularly enjoy. The way he held her hand and looked into her eyes back at the airport sent chills up her spine. Sure, he was her father's cousin, but since she usually trusted her instincts on people, Hermione wasn't exactly eager to readily accept him as one to be trusted. His wife, Valerie, seemed a bit too young for him, but the brunette wasn't one to judge on the whims of the heart. If they loved one another, then good for them. Still, with Valerie's too-chipper attitude and with Lucas' almost serpentine demeanor, Hermione didn't expect to be spending much time with them if she could help it.

As she lay there, her thoughts drifted to Harry and Ron. She missed them already. Sure, she had been looking forward to some alone time, but really, they were her best friends. And if it hadn't been for Ginny, Neville, and even Luna, they would have been her only friends. Harry and Ron were sort of this dynamic duo that never ceased to amaze Hermione, even after five years of being friends with them. They had their moments of stupidity, of course, but she helped guide them as best she could. Suddenly, Hermione had a fleeting moment of panic and worry as she could only imagine what Harry and Ron were doing without her there to make sure they didn't accidentally do something that they would all later regret. But the moment passed, as she reminded herself that they had been apart for many of their summer holidays, and this one shouldn't be any different.

She just had to keep telling herself that for the remainder of the summer.

Raising her hands to her face, Hermione rubbed her eyes and yawned once more. A nap sounded wonderful, given the long flight and car ride. Her stomach then growled, reminding her that she was still hungry. Wondering if lunch was being prepared yet, the girl finally sat up on her bed, letting her legs drop to the floor. She turned, tilting her head and rubbing the back of her neck and her shoulder slowly. Tucking some stray strands of hair behind her ear, Hermione stood and walked out of the room and down the two flights of stairs. She glanced around quickly, wondering if anyone was still downstairs. It seemed as if no one was there; the brunette assumed her parents were in their room, unpacking as she had previously done. As for Lucas and Valerie, she had no idea where they could have been. Still, at least she didn't have to deal with them right then.

Not quire sure if she was allowed to take whatever food she wanted, Hermione stepped gingerly into the kitchen, as if an alarm could go off at any second. Yes, she knew that lunch was supposed be prepared soon, but from the bareness of the kitchen, 'soon' could be too long for her to wait. Practically tip-toeing over to he fridge, she opened one of the massive double doors and peered inside, wondering what kind of food was available. A medley of fruits and vegetables were the first things the girl noticed: apples, oranges, bananas, cucumbers, tomatoes, and peppers, all of which were so brightly colored and fresh it astounded even her. Reaching a hand forward, Hermione grabbed one of the red apples. She took it over to the sink and rinsed it off with water - a habit she had learned from both her parents - and was about to take a bite when a voice behind her made her jump.

"Couldn't wait?"

The brunette almost dropped the apple, if it weren't for her fast reflexes. She spun around, her eyes wide, to find Lucas a few feet from her, leaning on the kitchen island, his arms folded across his chest. He had a small smirk on his lips, and his eyes glinted darkly in the kitchen light. Hermione met them, holding his gaze for a moment before speaking. "I just thought I'd have a light snack beforehand," she replied coolly, turning the apple slowly in her grasp. "After all, I haven't eaten in a long while." Lucas nodded, smiling more, the slightest sign of crow's feet appearing at the corners of his eyes. Hermione supposed he would have been a very attractive man for his age, were it not for the odd vibe she got from him. Then again, perhaps she was only imagining it. Because she had seen danger lurking around every corner, she assumed the worst in people until they proved otherwise. Perhaps she was doing just that with Lucas. Maybe she judged him too soon.

"Well I was just about to make lunch, if you want to save that apple for later," the man suggested, letting his arms drop to his sides. Hermione thought about for a moment, then gave him a small smile and a nod. Drying the apple off with a paper towel, she put it back into the fridge for later. Lucas slid behind her, reaching around her side to pull out the ingredients he needed for the tunafish salad. She automatically shied away from him, murmuring a quick, "Sorry" as she moved out of his way and stepped out of the kitchen entirely. Even if she didn't think Lucas to be slightly creepy, Hermione always thought it impolite to be in the kitchen while someone was cooking. Her mother and father would disagree, saying they didn't mind, but she always felt like she was just in their way. This instance was no different.

The man chuckled, setting the items from the fridge on the island. "No need to apologize, Hermione." The girl shrugged. "It's an automatic reaction when someone starts cooking and I'm in the kitchen. I prefer to stay out of the way, so that they can work more efficiently."

Another chuckle from Lucas - which was actually starting to bother Hermione. Not a lot, but enough for her to notice how irksome it was. "I understand what you mean," he replied, pulling out a large mixing bowl. "For the longest time I always felt like I was just another obstacle for my parents to maneuver around when they cooked." He began to chop up the black olives, then moved to the whole onion next. "But eventually I learned that they actually enjoyed my company, contrary to what I had led myself to believe." Opening up the jar of mayonaisse, Lucas then scooped a large amount into the mixing bowl, adding some Dijon mustard directly after it. "It was a nice revelation," he continued, scraping in the chopped vegetables as well as the relish he had waiting on the countertop, "realizing that I wasn't something in their way, but someone with whom they could hold an enjoyable conversation while they prepared the food." He added in the tuna and stirred everything together with a large spatula, cracking some fresh pepper and salt into the mix after a few stirs.

Pausing to sample it, Lucas nodded to himself. He raised his gaze to meet Hermione's once more. "Care to taste?" he asked with a grin.

During his little speech, the girl couldn't bring herself to just turn and leave. Contrary to what she had first thought about him, Lucas seemed to be a gentleman - one with apparently sufficient knowledge of English grammar. The thought brought a small, genuine smile to Hermione's lips. At his question, though, she blinked. She was about to politely decline, telling him that she would wait until everyone else got their own serving, when Lucas beckoned her with a single finger. "Come here," he said with a small laugh - the same laugh which was growing more and more tiresome - "Just one bite. I want to know if it's good enough to declare finished and ready for consumption."

Well she couldn't very well argue with him on that point. With another small smile, Hermione stepped back into the kitchen. She took the spatula from Lucas and brought it to her lips, gingerly pulling a small sample of the tunafish salad from it. The girl chewed slowly, letting the flavors roll over one another, before her smile broadened. She swallowed and smiled at Lucas. "It's very good," she said with a nod of approval.

Grinning back at her, the man nodded and turned around to pull out a loaf of bread for them to spread the salad onto if they so desired. "Lunch is served!" he called out, his voice resonating through the entire house. Stealing another glance at Hermione, he winked and began to make his own sandwich, using a paper towel instead of a plate to hold it in. "Get it before they do," Lucas murmured to her as he walked past her on his way to the back porch. The breath she had been holding in was released once he disappeared through the door. Even after trying to assume he wasn't a bad man, Hermione still thought there was something... off. She couldn't place what it was - maybe it was that she thought he was being far too flirty with someone who could be his own daughter, that could certainly be it - but there was definitely an odd feeling in the pit of her stomach whenever he was near.

Still, Hermione couldn't deny herself the admittedly delicious food that was now waiting for her and the others on the counter. Snatching a couple slices of bread, the girl spread some of the salad onto them and grabbed a paper towel as well. She took a bite and began to take it up to her room, where she could eat in peace, when the doorbell rang. Looking down at the sandwich, she sighed and rolled her eyes slightly. "I'll get it!" called the girl, chewing quickly and heading towards the front door. Swallowing the bite she had taken, Hermione opened the door.

It was the blonde girl from next door. Her arms were folded, like before, and her weight was shifted towards her right leg. The expression on her face was indiscernable.

Temporarily caught off guard, Hermione stood there for a moment, holding the sandwich in her hand as she stared. But then she realized she was staring, and quickly blinked, smiling at the girl. "Um, yes...?" Shoot. What was her name again?

"Quinn," stated the blonde, quirking an eyebrow, as if she was insulted that anyone could forget her name.

"Right, right," stammered Hermione, scolding herself for doing so. "Sorry. Can I help you, Quinn?"

There was a pause as Quinn stared at her. "You've got something on your face," she said, her brow raising higher. At first, Hermione didn't know what the blonde was talking about. Then her eyes widened as she realized what Quinn was referring to. Her cheeks flushed as she wiped the small bit of tunafish salad from the corner of her lips. "Oops, sorry," she mumbled. Rolling her eyes and wetting her lips, Quinn shifted her weight to the other leg. "Whatever." She raised a hand to brush her short hair out of her eyes. "My father sent me over to invite you all to dinner tonight." She sounded less than enthused at the idea, which made Hermione's smile falter slightly. But she nodded all the same. "That's very thoughtful," she replied. "Thank you-"

"Don't thank me," interrupted the blonde without hesitation, her eyes flashing to Hermione's. "It was my parents' idea, not mine."

The brunette's brows furrowed slightly. She didn't care if Quinn was in a bad mood or whatever was the case; that response was entirely uncalled for, seeing as Hermione was only thanking her for the kind gesture. "Well excuse me, then," she replied, her cheeks flushing once more, but this time in annoyance. "I'll be sure to thank them later for the invitation, right after politely declining it." Quinn narrowed her eyes slightly, her head tilting. "You're not going to come?" she asked slowly.

The brunette shook her head. "I don't think so, no," she replied curtly.

"What don't you think?" came a voice from behind her. Hermione started - the second time that day - and turned her head to look at who had spoken. Her father came up to the door, a sandwich in his hand as well. "Who's there, pumpkin?" He pulled the door open more, and smiled once he saw Quinn. "You're the neighbors' daugher - Quinn, is it?" The blonde looked slowly up at him, the nodded. He grinned, pleased with himself for remembering her name. "Well, Quinn, how can we help?"

"I was just telling her that we can't accept their invitation to have dinner with them," said Hermione quickly, giving Quinn a quick glance before looking back up at her father. "After all, we're all very tired, and I'm sure-"

"Oh don't be silly, Hermione," he said with a laugh. He looked back to the blonde. "We'd love to come!" Charles laughed heartily, nodding to both of them before taking a bite of his sandwich and turning back inside the house.

Hermione pursed her lips as she watched her father retreat to the back porch. She waited for a moment, not wanting to face Quinn just then. Clenching her jaw, she turned back towards the blonde, who had the slightest hint of satisfaction on her features. The brunette smiled, though it did not reach her eyes. "It seems as if I spoke too soon," she managed. The corner of Quinn's lip twitched. She gave Hermione a pointed look before turning around and starting back towards her own house. She stopped at the bottom of the stairs and glanced back at the brunette. "Dinner's at seven." Giving her another half-grin, the blonde turned back around and was gone.

Watching her leave, Hermione chewed the inside of her cheek absently, her brows furrowed in irritation and confusion. Quinn was... difficult. At first she just seemed troubled - she had definitely been upset about something up in her room; but now, after a brief exchange with the blonde, Hermione found her to be arrogant and oddly hostile about whatever relationship she had with her parents. She closed the door slowly and turned back around, walking up the stairs slowly as she thought to herself. Hermione entered her room and shut the door behind her. She walked over to the window and peeked outside. A curious part of her wanted to see what Quinn was doing, but another part of her hoped that the blonde hadn't gone up to her room. The brunette didn't want to see that self-satisfied expression anymore than she wanted to see Draco Malfoy saunter down the corridors at Hogwarts.

Sure enough, Quinn was in her room, the curtains parted and the blinds opened. Hermione watched her for a moment, her eyes narrowed slightly as she focused on the girl. She was sitting cross-legged on her bed, talking to someone on her cell phone. Her back was bent over, her head in one of her hands as she spoke. Quinn shook her head at times, and flicked her hand outward angrily at others. Hermione wondered what the blonde was talking about (and with whom), her curiosity spiking once more.

Then Quinn turned and looked directly at her, their eyes meeting like before.

The two locked eyes and held each other's gaze, neither one wanting to back down first. Quinn then said something into her phone, waited a moment, then nodded, not blinking the entire time. Hermione frowned slightly, watching the girl and wondering what she was saying. But then the blonde stood from the bed and, keeping the phone against one ear, walked over to the window, raising an arm and leaning on the frame, her eyes still locked on Hermione. The brunette's cheeks flushed at the sight, and before she could stop herself, she pulled her own curtains closed quickly. She turned her back to the window and leaned on the wall beside it, huffing quietly. Why she had backed down first, the girl didn't know. Maybe it was the way Quinn was staring at her, as if daring Hermione to watch her; maybe it was the way she stopped her conversation just to focus solely on Hermione, speaking only a few words after their unspoken competition began; maybe it was because Hermione found Quinn to be so aggravating yet so intriguing at the same time, and she couldn't deal with it right then.

Whatever the reason, the brunette sighed to herself, feeling an odd sense of defeat. She wasn't sure how dinner was going to be, given hers and Quinn's brief interaction downstairs. She wasn't even sure if she wanted to go now, though it would be pointless to argue with her parents, who would certainly want her to join them all.

Hermione looked down at the sandwich in her hands. She lifted it and took an angry bite, pouting as she chewed.


End file.
